


Leaving

by acerbitas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Choking, M/M, PTSD, Past Rape, Rape, Sexism, Sexual Assault, Stockholm Syndrome, Threats, Victim Blaming, past genital mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acerbitas/pseuds/acerbitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay takes Reek to his chambers, and orders him to undress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> I was triggered by writing this. I wanted to say that because I don't want anyone to read it and be upset or triggered or anything. D: So...yeah...just a warning there.

“Don’t worry,” Ramsay told him, “I’m not going to hurt you tonight, as long as you behave.”

Theon trembled.  It was a lie; Ramsay’s words hurt, even.  But he knew better to say anything, and only nodded.  His lord had ordered him to get on the bed, and spread his legs.  Then Ramsay had crawled on top of him.

Ramsay had already tugged off Theon’s britches, and was running his hands along his servant’s thighs.  The only thing that separated his hands from Theon’s skin was a thin layer of smallclothes.  Roose had ordered him dressed, and bathed, but Ramsay had him for tonight.  Ramsay would always have him.

It had been a mistake to think of himself as Theon, even for a while.

“The old Reek,” he told him, “had different proclivities.  He was more into chasing, and fucking.  You’re more into running, and being fucked.”

Theon swallowed; Ramsay had never done this before.  Ever _touched_ him like this before.  His stomach was sick.

“But that’s okay, isn’t it, Reek?”  Ramsay’s hand was in his hair, caressing, stroking.  “I have all kinds of servants.  Admittedly, you’re not as pretty as a maid, but you’ll still squeal like one.  Won’t you?”

Theon’s chest heaved, but he nodded.  He had seen himself in the mirror; it seemed bizarre anyone would want to look at him, let alone like this.  He guessed it didn’t matter, when all you liked was pain and fear.

 _Just let him do what he wants,_ he thought, _and be he wants, and you’ll be gone tomorrow._ That still hadn’t sunk in.

Ramsay leaned in towards him, and their noses touched.  His captor’s thumb ran down his cheek, and poked his lip playfully.  “It’s fine, Reek.  Don’t be afraid.  You can kiss me.”

Theon was too frightened to refuse; he kissed his lord.  The kiss was meager and shy, and he shivered as he withdrew.  _If I had a maid like this, before, I would not have liked it._ Theon shut his eyes.  He had to withdraw, and go away.

“Oh, are you a virgin now?” Ramsay asked, amused.  “Now, Reek.  I know that’s not true.  We both know you ran away.”

Shivering, Reek nodded.  He had run, but he shouldn’t have.  He had known the consequences.

“Now, try again, little maid.”

Reek raised his mutilated fingers to stroke Ramsay’s cheek.  He cupped his lord’s face in both hands, and kissed him desperately.  When he withdrew, he stared at Ramsay’s chest, waiting for a slap or worse.

 “Not as bad,” Ramsay said instead.  “You will be loyal when you go away?”

“…Yes.”  Reek would not forget, not after this.  He didn’t belong anywhere else but here.  Only his lord would keep him.

“Remember, if you do well, you can be one of my dogs.  Do you remember?”

“Yes.”  _How could I forget?_

“But we’re trying it out tonight, right, Reek?”  Ramsay tugged open the laces on his pants.  “Let’s see if you make a good bitch.”

Reek didn’t know what a “good bitch” would be for Ramsay, and he was too afraid to ask.  He just waited, paralyzed, hoping for a signal.

“Well, get ready.  Do I have to do it for you?”

There was a warning there, and a command.  He started to tug down his smallclothes, vision growing blurry with tears.  Underneath them was humiliation, and the memory of unbearable pain.

He couldn’t even look at the scar between his legs; when he relieved himself he looked away.  Pulling his legs up, he removed his final piece of protection.  Reek quivered; Ramsay was fully clothed.

“M’lord?” he asked.

“Figure it out,” Ramsay told him.  His voice was sharp.  “Or I will punish you right now, and you won’t get a chance to get ready.”

Reek knew it could be better than before.  He could prepare.  Pushing his fingers into his mouth, he removed them dripping with saliva.  Ramsay liked him dirty, and wouldn’t care.  Maybe he would even approve.  He pushed one finger inside himself, and then the other.  While he did it, he tasted tears on his lips.

“Why are you crying?  I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No.”  Reek couldn’t stop the tears though.  “I’m just…so happy.  So happy to get a chance to serve you.”  He hated the feeling of his fingers; he wished he’d die, and never have to notice his body again.

The other man seemed satisfied, even though he must have known it was a lie.  Then his hand was in Reek’s hair again, playing with the ragged strands.  Fingers pushed away the tears on Reek's cheeks, but they felt as violent as a knife.

“Are you ready?” Ramsay was growing impatient.  His cock was out and it was hard. 

“Yes.”  He would never be ready, but he pushed himself towards Ramsay anyway.  The other men had taken him from behind.

Ramsay’s fingers replaced his own, and Reek tried not to shudder.  He failed.  Luckily Ramsay only chuckled, and continued his task.

When Ramsay pushed his cock into him, Reek gasped.  There was pain, but mostly there was the feeling of being smothered.  The feeling that any second you should explode, but you won’t.

His lord started out slow, and it took him awhile to get fully inside.  Reek felt grateful for that.  It wasn’t as painful, going slow, and there was just one man to please.  But Ramsay was the most frightening of all, and it felt like having Ramsay inside him was a final declaration of ownership.

 _He owns me,_ Reek thought.  _I’ll never get away._ That thought startled him into action.  He squealed like Ramsay had wanted, and eased his fingers through Ramsay’s hair.  He was terrified to do it, to go from passive to participant, but he had to try.

In response Ramsay grabbed Reek’s skinny hips, and went faster.  Reek leaned his head on Ramsay’s shoulder.  He had faded out, like he did when Ramsay flayed him.  It was easier to obey like that.  His tears stopped.  Ramsay’s fingernails dug into his thigh, and he wacked him in the same spot.

Reek whimpered, even though it barely hurt.  He did it intentionally; the maid taunt had been a suggestion.  In Ramsay’s world, suggestions were orders too.  Reek wasn’t sure if he was watching himself from the ceiling or not.  It felt like he was, but that wasn’t possible.  Ramsay was panting, one hand planted firmly on the bed.  His other grabbed Reek’s jaw.

“You _are_ a bitch,” he observed through a shaky breath.  “You _like_ it.”

“…Yes,” Reek agreed; he thought he might be hyperventilating.

Ramsay slowed down to press on Reek’s windpipe.  He pressed down so hard Reek saw stars, so hard Reek thought he might pass out.  That wouldn’t have been so bad, but it didn’t happen.  Ramsay released him.

“What am I?”

As soon as he could speak, Reek uttered a guttural: “My Lord.”

Ramsay wasn’t listening, though.  The choking had sent him to the edge.  With a shuttered gasp, he came.  His eyes were rolled up in his head.  He collapsed on Reek and, for what seemed forever, lay there.  He was grinning.

Reek thought about squeezing on his lord’s neck.  But not until he saw stars.  Until he was dead.  But he couldn’t.  He _couldn’t._   This had worsened everything somehow.  He lay, passive, until Ramsay eased into a sitting position.

Unable to help himself, Reek curled up.  The world felt distant, and far away.  He ached, and it _hurt_.  It hurt in his chest more than anything else.

Ramsay threw a fur blanket over Reek, and put his hand on his head.

“You’ll make a good bitch,” he told him, not unkindly.  “I’ll put a collar on you, and you will eat well.  As long as you behave.”

“I’ll behave,” Reek promised.  He had never hurt so much before, except in the dark.  This was better than losing fingers and toes in the dark.  This was better than his cell, where it was hard to remember his name.  Now, he remembered.

Ramsay ran his hand over Reek’s neck, thoughtfully.  “Yes,” he said.  His eyes trailed over Reek’s mutilated fingers.  “You will.”


End file.
